Maids and Butlers
by parodyham
Summary: There were many castle servants who watched the girls grow up; these are their stories. Planning a bunch of one-shots from different POVs.


Author's Note: It's extremely rare that I write something that isn't Neopets related, but I decided to give it a try. I woke up at 5am with an idea and decided to roll with it. Let me know what you think! It'll probably be getting some more edits sooner or later since I'm publishing this story the same day I wrote it. I'm thinking of doing a bunch of short stories, all from the POV of different maids and butlers. We shall see!

* * *

As a maid, I was the first to notice Princess Anna's peculiar behavior. Each morning, she would stand against her sister's door, begging to play with the older child. Meanwhile, the King and Queen would tell me nothing of why sweet, innocent Elsa became so forlorn so quickly. They would only dismiss her quietness, claiming such shyness to be common for girls of that age.

And why would the king and queen lie? I thought. They love their people.

Cook the meals. Launder the clothes. Sew the tears. I did the same routine for years. One might claim me to be a lucky soul, to be so near to the royal family, but I did no more than the average woman for the throne.

I admit it, I am selfish.

Denmark's beauty is often breathtaking. Her cool winds are unrelenting, her shores an icy trap. And to her I gave a precious gift. If only she were born healthier, my child. She would not have played by the frozen river bank. She would not have followed the men while they worked.

The townsfolk said I could make another. They claimed it would be simple, that any man with two Kroner of wit would fall in love with my fair skin, waist-long blonde hair, and green eyes. But they did not understand. After I lost them, a part of me died. No one understood why a woman of my age and girth could not give birth to ten more sons. And daughters. I just could not. It would be too painful.

I fear not all of us womenfolk can handle the harsh world. When his royal highness planted the seed for two perfect little girls, I thought of a plan worth saving my meager life. If I could be their gardener, they would surely bloom into fine young ladies. Left to their own devices, they would suffer. It is a dangerous world out there.

Fortune would have it that my brother assisted with table setting and garden keeping. If that were the only fortune fate dealt me, at least it proved a helpful one. He gave me the chance to raise a child without the undue attachment. It did not have to be my own.

And so I continued the routine. Cook the meals. Launder the clothes. Sew the tears.

Again I found Anna. This time she had fallen asleep against her sister's door, head tilted to the side and drooling. Her braided, shoulder-length red hair was now covered in a trail of saliva. Most unladylike.

I tapped her awake as any good maid would do. She sprung up like a snow hare; her bright eyes filled to the brim with longing.

"Elsa? Is that—Oh." She paused for a moment, hiding her face in shame. The girl mumbled sometimes. "Hi, Miss. Ann-Marie…"

I would give her a curt nod. Girls need to be treated tenderly, but to be given tough love when needed.

"Your clothes are a mess, Anna! And just look at those stains," I would say. She would only groan. "And Elsa, your breakfast is to be ready in less than an hour. Get yourself changed and meet his royal highness in the dining room."

She never responded, but I could always hear her shuffle about the room. It took some time to pry Anna away from the door. Rarely did she go willingly. Once they had set to changing, I would continue my routine.

Cook the meals. Launder the clothes. Sew the tears.

They would be sent to me, the girls. They needed lessons on sewing. Safe work.

Anna is always too energetic. She hardly keeps still unless scolded first. And each and every time they come, she bothers her sister. Elsa rarely says a word unless spoken to by me; her stitches are nicer. The heir would work in silence, dutifully making patterns of birds, hearts, and princes. Each stitch would be meticulous. In and out. In and out. None of her princes smiled. The one time she had made a mistake, I went to guide her hand, but she violently yanked it away.

"No! Don't touch it!" she shouted, gasping for breath. Her face looked more ashen than usual. "I mean… please, these gloves were given to me by my Mom and Dad. They're special." Elsa bowed her head. Her tightly braided white hair dangled out to the side. "I'm sorry, Miss. Anne-Marie."

It came as a surprise that she spoke. Many of us forgotten she could since her seventh name day when the arctic flower wilted. They were now nine and six. Often I wondered why she would stitch while wearing gloves. Indoors. But never did I ask. 'twould be impolite of me. She _was_ to be the queen after all.

We supped our main meal of roast cod, honey-loaf, steamed pigeon pie, and mixed garden greens; I brought the two up to their studies. While they learned, I finished up my routine.

Clean up the meal. Launder the clothes. Sew the tears.

Elsa never asks to be tucked in by me. Her parents agree that they are better for the job, yet they never said a word against my helping Anna. It took not even an hour before the troublemaker would sneak out of her room and camp out by Elsa's room. It was nearly dark outside, yet she would ask the same thing each and every day. It was a wonder Elsa could stand it.

"Do you wanna build a snowman?" she sang, her red braids bounced as she jumped around. "Come on let's go and play! I never see you anymore, come out the door! It's like you've gone away…" Anna paused, noting me in the hallway next to her, tapping my foot expectantly.

"There's no time to build a snowman, now head on to your room."

She began to tear up. "But there's never time! I want to have fun and play like we used to do."

"You have better things to work on than building snowmen, Anna. And so does your sister. She has the right idea, being so quiet and dutiful. I wish you would do the same."

She slumped over, pouting. "Fine…" she said, before running over to the lock opening. "How about tomorrow, Elsa?"

"Go away, Anna."

This saddened the girl, I could tell, but she tried to hide it the best way she could with a broad grin and bubbly enthusiasm. I sometimes wondered how sincere her smiles to be.

"Hey, Miss. Anne-Marie?" she said, pulling at my linen skirt.

"Yes, Anna?"

"Can you carry me?" she looked at the ground, avoiding eye contact. "My legs are feeling tired."

I studied her face like any Mother would have. Her legged worked just fine a minute ago. "And you ripped your night clothes as well, didn't you?"

"Well…" she pulled at her braid. Strands of loose hair frizzed out to the side. "Yeaaah…"

I returned her to the room. The girl burrowed her face into my blouse and gripped me tightly.

The next day she would try again. And the day after that. All throughout her childhood she always wanted to build that snowman.

Once she became too old to be carried, I would often find her at Elsa's door until my displease frown chased her away. The goose-feather bed seemed so much more comfortable to me; I never understood her obsession. Anna would even skip her classes in an attempt to play outside during the day, but it rarely worked… as far as I'm aware.

As each day went by and I watched the future queen and her sister grow, I went along the same routine. And never did it change, that routine. Not as long as they were children. Not before the day when everything changed.

I cooked the meals. I laundered the clothes. I sewed her tears.


End file.
